


to rest one’s weary head

by Yulicia



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, No Dialogue, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Thancred pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulicia/pseuds/Yulicia
Summary: Thancred ponders the nature of people and places, of the makings of a home, and the condition of loving and being loved in return.
Relationships: Ryne | Minfilia & Thancred Waters, Urianger Augurelt/Thancred Waters
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	to rest one’s weary head

Thancred had lived in a great many places, from the mundane to the extraordinary. To him a home was a place one was able to rest their head, a place with a bed and a warm meal. It was little more than that for a former street rat like him.

His first home had been Limsa Lominsa; city of Pirates. As a young boy his place had been the streets, filtered amongst the other lost boys and girls without a family to return home too. He remembered the smell of the sea the most, how the waves of the ocean lapped against the wooden ports, how the salt of the breeze would dance upon his tongue. A great many people found a home amongst that scraggly little city, the one born of misfits and crime, and he was just one of dozens, hundreds,  _ thousands  _ of others. Though he recalled his childhood in the patchwork city Thancred would hesitate to call himself Lominsan for while he had spent much of his youth upon its streets he remembered little of the city itself, too hungry and lonely to ever take the cobblestones into his heart. 

Next, and soon after, it had been Sharlayan, city of study. Whisked away from dear old Limsa his home became a far-away place, a place with streets so unfamiliar that they soon became scary. He remembered those first days the most, the one where he felt like a stray dog tossed into a great lord's manor, his matted coat clashing with the pristine and carefully laid furniture. For a while it felt as though amongst this city of strangers he was more of an outcast than he had been in Lominsa, an orphan boy thrown into the jaws of - what had been to him at the time - high society. For the most part it was Loiusoix he remembered from Sharlayan, the man who had taken him as a trusted pupil. 

Then it had been Ul’dah for spell, where he had found a purpose in Ascilia— _ Minfilia— _ and found a place beneath the city of splendor. He remembered the sand beneath his toes, warmed by the midday sun. It was not the fine beach sand of La Noscea, but coarse and rough, mixed with dirt and soil. He still holds Ul’dah fondly, and still knows every street’s secrets. He knows where to find the best food, and where to find those little hidden gems at the marketplace, the quiet ones with simple trinkets one would dare not find elsewhere. The city of the Sultana was an awe inspiring city, and it was one he was proud to have known. 

And then later, and for a while, his place had been in the Waking Sands, hidden away in a Thanalan port. There had been warmth there—a purpose, a  _ goal.  _ The Waking Sands was his to protect, however poorly he may have done so. From the Waking Sands remembered blood, most of all. It is only once he clears the sea of red and gasped that he then remembered shadow, echoes clawing at his throat. He thinks he might have remembered something else, had circumstances been different… but as it was his memories were forever tainted. Thankfully the Rising Stones painted a brighter picture. 

Mor Dhona and the Rising Stones had been a new hope, and one filled with memories of his friends—his  _ family.  _ Though ghosts still walked those halls they were tempered by the warmth of the living, darkness outshined by the light. He was fond of the place, cobbled together as it was. It felt most appropriate to their band of adventurers turned heroes, really. 

For a lifetime his home was Eorzea, from east to west. He found a home in wherever his work took him, from Thanalan to Ala Mhigo. Whether that be an inn room in Ishgard, or a pretty girls bed, he found a place to be in all manner of places. He was a charmeleon, blending in perfectly with his surroundings, ever flexible and ever changing. 

His home was Eorzea until suddenly it wasn’t. Suddenly he was a literal world away, trapped on a star he had barely heard of before. He had supposed that with Minfilia having travelled to the First all those years ago he knew he would come eventually. It was always her he had followed, once upon a time. 

Upon the First his home was everywhere and nowhere. He was a stranger here, lost amongst those left from the Flood. Home was the Crystarium while the Exarch would have him, and wherever he could find when he wouldn’t. Home was, if he tried, all of Norvrandt—though it was never Eulmore, and would never be Eulmore. His place became wherever it was safest to hide both him and his ward, the child of Light; the girl who bore the visage of a ghost so familiar it made him ache. 

Eventually it came to be that the safest place for the two of them was Il Mheg, the realm of the fae where even the forces of Eulmore hesitated to enter. It would have been the same for them, had they not had Urianger to welcome them into his own home—one that was quickly becoming something of a home for the both of them, too. It was a promise that no matter how far they ran, how far they travelled, they would always have a place to stop, and to rest their aching feet. 

If one were to ask Thancred to name a place he most considered a home, he would say all manner of places, but he would rarely say it was a person. Though people made places bright, none of them had felt like home before. There was always something just out of reach, a thorn reminding him that there was  _ something  _ missing. If he were to try to say a person he might have said Minfilia, but he believed that she had not considered  _ him _ a home for she already had another family that she did, rendering the tether broken. Her home was not for him. _It is not for you._ Eventually Thanced had chalked it up to his heart just not working in a way that let him see a home in another being. It would certainly make sense. After all, if Minfilia of all people had not been home, then who could ever be? 

That was simply the way it was until… until now. Until the First. Until Urianger. Gods if you’d told Thancred all those years ago that the piece his heart had been looking for was Urianger he would have laughed in your face. But he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest. Couldn’t deny the easy sigh that slips from him whenever he sees that welcoming smile, how it drives the pain of a day’s battle away so easily he’d swear there was something magical about it. He couldn’t deny that the Shelves felt more like home than anything ever had and not because there was something remarkable about the stuffy old house, but because there was something remarkable about it’s stuffy old owner. 

It was frightening, in a sense, to suddenly feel this way. Thancred had loved and had lost, and he was terrified of losing again. But… it was okay. He knew Urianger was scared too. That they  _ both _ suddenly gained something that couldn’t bear to lose again. That they both found another soul—one with now-orange hair nearly more vivid than the Light that lay inside her—to share their worries for. In these two he had refound home, refound  _ family _ , even a world away from those beginnings in Lominsa. 

Thancred had lived a great many places, from the mundane to the extraordinary. To him a home was a place one was able to rest their heart, a place with warm smiles and the distant sounds of Urianger and Ryne talking about whatever epic tale he’d decided to spin today. It was where love lay. It was that and so, so much more.


End file.
